Twisted Games, Lies, and Love
by FangLovesMeMost
Summary: The revolt never happened. Katniss&Peeta still play the Star Crossed Lovers, but she's not sure if it's just an act anymore. Is she really falling for the boy with the bread? Can they take over Haymitch's job as mentors? Max & Iggy from District 2 hate weakness, & Fang & Angel from District 12 seem to be easy victims. How wrong is Max when she finds out just how deadly Fang can be?


**Hey, ya'll! This is my second story, and first crossover! I absolutely adore reviews, so please do!**

_**Disclaimer: PLEASE DON'T MISTAKE ME FOR SUZANNE COLLINS OR JAMES PATTERSON! I am definitely not them, and I do not own and of their characters!**_

**Story takes place after the Victory Tour, and the Revolt never happened.**

**Anyway, so here is...**

**Twisted Games, Lies, and Love!**

* * *

**Fang POV**

I buttoned up the last of the dress shirt I was wearing and blinked in the mirror. I was mostly clean, at least, cleaner had I'd been all year. I glanced sideways and frowned at the way my thick, long, black hair had been combed back. It didn't look right to me. I wanted to just leave it down in front of my eyes, because I didn't see the point in dressing up for the slaughter house.

"Fang, dear," my mother called from the kitchen. I walked down stairs, sighing when my parents both looked me over with happy, excited faces. It was sick actually. We were one of the wealthiest families in the district, and I was expected to be great friends with the mayor's daughter. I could never bring myself to be like her and the other Higher-Ups. It just felt wrong to dress nice and shower daily when all of the other kids I went to school with didn't have those luxuries.

"Oh, darling!" Mother cooed with delight. "You look marvelous!"

Father patted me on the back with a grin, and I managed a weak smile back. I never did understand their enthusiasm toward the Reaping. They had some superstition running in the family, like if I wasn't picked, then our family would be guaranteed good luck and riches for the year. "Make us proud, son."

I nodded, unsure how standing amongst a group of boys made him proud.

I gave both of them quick hugs good-bye and hurried out toward District Twelve's town square.

I filed in with the boys, trying to meet up with one of my best friends. When my eyes finally picked him out of the crowd, I called out to him. He looked up and smiled. He was just some poor kid with a lot of mouths to try and provide for. In a way though, he was better off than most. He had his hunting secret. He'd mentioned it once or twice to me, but I'd never managed to catch his hunting partner's name. Between the two of them, they caught just enough to get by.

"Gale!" I said with a punch to his shoulder. "How's your family?"

He gave a small, halfhearted smile. "Fine." He answered. He never talked a lot, which, in a lot of ways, was completely like me. A lot of things about us were the same: our shaggy black hair, our olive tone skin, and dark grey eyes. It was easy to mistake us as brothers. "Is Total doing fine?"

"Yup." I gave a lopsided smile. "That dog still doesn't know how to take a crap outside. He prefers to leave a present on my parents bed."

His mouth curved to match my crooked grin. "How lovely."

I snickered and was just about to ask him about the Hob, when there was a loud thump on a microphone somewhere.

"Welcome!" A high-pitched and annoyingly accented voice called out. "Welcome to the reaping of the 75th annual Hunger Games and 3rd Quarter Quell. May the odds be ever in your favor. Now, as you all know, the Quell Card called for something quite interesting this year. Each district's tributes will have a different genetic alteration."

The lady stopped and pulled a sealed envelope from her sleeve and waved it in the air. "But before we see what animal genes our kids will receive, we must first listen to our wonderful Mayor."

The audience applauded without any real enthusiasm. It was more of a 'I better clap so the big guys with the guns don't blow my head off'.

The Mayor walked up, bowed his head, and began his speech on why we had the Hunger Games... why children had to die. It disgusted me. It infuriated me. It was the same thing every year.

When he finished, he adjusted his reading glasses. "Back to you Effie." He finally said with a nod and returned to his seat.

Effie clapped her hands wildly. "It is now time to bring out the Victors of District 12."

Although he was obviously drunk, out came a newly shaved and well-dressed Haymitch. This was surprising since he normally roamed the streets with a scraggly beard and a bottle of beer in one hand. He smiled with distaste, like this was the last place he wanted to be. I didn't blame him.

Katniss and Peeta waltzed out after, hand in hand. They waved and Peeta spun Katniss around, giggling like a lovesick puppy-dog. She turned and gave Peeta a kiss on the cheek.

Gale let out an irritated snort. I turned my face slightly to look at him and saw the scowl tugging at his mouth.

"Ya don't like them?" I whispered.

He seemed to just realize that he was frowning, and shrugged. When he looked back up to the stage his face had become unreadable.

When the Victors were seated, Effie walked over to one of the giant glass spheres that held the girls' names of District Twelve. "Ladies first!" With a wave of her hand, her arm quickly disappeared in the sea of slips. She pulled out one, held it up for the crowd to see, and opened it. She beamed and returned to the microphone.

"It seems that this year's tribute is... Angel Martinez." She looked up from the paper and raised her eyebrows. "Well, Angel? Come on up here." She beckoned the audience with her hand.

A small girl, blonde with curly ringlets, stepped out from the crowd. A mother cried out, and the little girl spun to look at her mom. I cursed under my breath. She was twelve years old, and I could see the glistening tears on her cheeks as she stepped farther away from her parents and little siblings. Once she made it onto the stage, she stood with her chin up and held high.

Effie clapped again. "And now time for the boys!" She made her way over to the names and quickly snatched a paper up.

I nudged Gale's arm with mine as she made her way back to the podium. "How many times is your name-?"

"Fifty two." He breathed. "And I can't afford to leave. My family needs to be fed."

I nodded. I understood what he said.

Effie's loud breathing entered the microphone and grabbed our attention again. "And our boy for this year is..." She paused, a little too long, for a dramatic effect.

"Fang Nickleson."

Gale's arm stiffened so abruptly that it was only then that I actually comprehended what was said. I shifted forward without thinking, and he grabbed my arm. I looked at him, shocked, but he wasn't even looking in my direction. He was glaring furiously up at Effie, his fist clenched white with strain.

"Gale." I whispered, to get him to let go. His murderous gaze crumbled and his hold on my arm broke.

"I swear," he ground out, "someday... I'm going to kill Snow."

I blinked at him in understanding and shuffled away, pushing my way to the stage.

"Congratulations!" Effie giggled. "Now shake hands."

I, the 18-year-old boy, turned to the little 12-year-old girl that would soon be my enemy. I shook her hand gently, because I was afraid if I squeezed to hard I'd break it. I promised myself that I wouldn't let anything keep me from winning, but when I looked into her big, blue, innocent eyes, I knew that there was no way I could ever kill her.

Then, I surprised myself. I did something that no tribute had ever done. I pulled her into a hug, bending down to her level and bringing my mouth to her ear to hide it from cameras. "Allies?" I whispered.

When I pulled away, she shone up at me and nodded quickly.

Effie squealed. "What a group of tributes this year!" She swiftly pulled out the sealed envelope from earlier, and opened it. "District Twelve's two tributes - in honor of the third Quarter Quell - will have their DNA spliced with one of our most beloved animals: the yellow Canary."

Silence blanketed over everyone.

I was absolutely horror struck with the idea of becoming part bird. What kind of sick and twisted world did we live in? Was it even possible to do that to us? Would I end up with a beak and chicken legs?

Angel reached her hand toward mine, and I grabbed it. "If we get wings, maybe we can fly away from people and win, right?" She looked up at me hopefully, her eyes as wide as saucers and deep as the ocean.

I squeezed her hand. "Maybe."

In the next instant, we were whisked away from each other, and the big doors of the Justice building slammed shut behind us.

* * *

**Mysterious**** POV Switch**

I was already at the Capitol, picking out my first victims on the TV.

"Those two." I decided aloud. "The Goth kid and the blonde. Weaklings."

Iggy's eyes settled on my forehead from across the couch. He grinned. It was unsettling how his gaze never actually caught mine. "Easy picking?" He asked, amused. "Even for me?"

I nodded, and then cursed at myself for doing so, since he was blind and couldn't see it. He and I had been training with the other Careers when we were eleven, and that's when he had gotten into his first fight with one of them. Iggy had gotten his eyes gouged out with a knife, but Iggy made sure the other kid ended up dead. Even now with his blindness, Ig was still vicious and deadly. "Yeah, especially for you." I confirmed.

His smile widened, and his laughter rolled out with thunderous malice. His hand rose, waiting for me to high-five it. He was a volunteer, and so was I. Both of us strong allies. Plenty capable of taking out these people one by one.

"Iggy Griffith and Maximum Ride. District 2's grisliest tributes." He mused. He tapped on his glass of wine nonchalantly. "You ready to get dolled up tomorrow, miss Max the Executioner."

"If they put me in a dress, I'll shred them to bits." I said with a simple shrug. "It's just a fact of life."

Another deep bellowing rumble came from Iggy. "Now _that_ I wish I could see."

"The dress or shredding?" I asked skeptically, kicking him playfully.

"Both."

I smiled at his response and gave the television set one last look. The older boy was hugging the girl. His cold and emotionless face couldn't cover up the softheartedness with the way he held her, and for some reason this ticked me off to no end. This was a death match. I had trained years for this, and he was just waltzing around giving out free hugs to everyone like it was no big deal.

_Him._ I thought. _He'll be my first kill._

* * *

**Katniss POV**

The moment we were inside, Peeta squeezed our linked hands, and I awkwardly let go. He smiled. "I'll meet up with you at the train?"

I nodded. And he waved a hand as he turned to excuse himself to his room.

Haymitch swayed over to stand beside me. He was always drunk now that Peeta and I could take on the roles of Mentors. "Sweetheart," His alcohol saturated breath hit me hard for a moment, "I don't even know how such an emotional mush ball like him made it through the Games." He waved in the general direction Peeta had gone, a beer somehow already in his hand. "He's so... so..." Haymitch was too far-gone for me to even understand what he was trying to say.

I sighed. He was a mess, and Peeta seemed to be the only person who knew how to handle him when he was like this.

I left to go after him, my mind wondering how we were going to keep up the Star crossed Lovers act this year. I knocked on his door. When he came to it, he raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

I wiped my hands on my jeans; they were still sweaty from having to stand in front of a crowd. "It's Haymitch." I breathed. "I was wondering how we're supposed to mentor the kids, since he's going to be no help."

Peeta leaned against the door fame, thinking. "I guess we just tell them what do to in the Practice Arena. Outside of there, maybe you could teach them technique in walking and breathing quietly." He scratched his head. "Little things, ya know?"

I nodded and shifted my weight. The question I had asked was only a stall for the real question I'd come up for. I took a breath and began. "Who..." I paused, trying to keep the burn from behind my eyes. The question was stuck in my throat like one of the white hot lumps of coal from our mineshafts. "Who do we... want to win?" I managed.

His eyes flickered with realization. His gaze swiftly dropped and he stepped from his room. His voice lowered. "Who do we think is going to live longer?"

"We can't judge it by that!" I hissed, but the moment I said it I knew I was wrong. We couldn't spend money from Sponsors on someone we believed it wouldn't benefit. The person we chose had to be stronger, and more likely to last longer.

Peeta didn't respond. He knew I was just trying to get this out of the way before we became too attached to choose between the two. I was already favoring Angel because of how much she looked like Prim and Rue, but I knew that wasn't fair. And on the other hand, I had heard Gale speak about Fang. They were close friends from what Gale had told me in the woods. This made me feel obligated to stay loyal to his friend.

When I didn't say anything else, Peeta spoke again. "We'll train them equally, and then see what happens after the Cornucopia."

I sighed in frustration and acceptance. Peeta opened his arms and I leaned into his chest. His shirt smelled faintly of the cheesy bread he'd made for me and my family this morning. I was going to need his support to help me through this. We were going to have to choose a kid to let die. He rubbed my back with comforting strokes and I let out a shaky breath.

"You're right." I whispered.

He didn't respond, but kept calming me. It was odd how sometimes we were so awkward around each other, never knowing where the friend boundaries were, and how sometimes we were relaxed and ourselves. I pulled away thinking that we were pushing the limit. I was often self-conscious about things like that, but sometimes my guard fell down and I would go a little farther than most friends would. It was just so natural. Being as close as we were during the Games, I often found myself confused on how to act when we weren't being watched.

When I was standing back completely, I folded my arms over my chest. Peeta never seemed to mind those moments when I would clumsily pull away.

"All people involved with this year's Hunger Games, exit to the High Speed Train quickly. We will be leaving in ten minutes." A voice blared from the invisible speakers placed throughout the building.

Peeta held out his arm, and I latched onto his elbow, ready to start acting like to lovebirds. "Miss Everdeen?" He asked as we marched toward the outside doors.

"What?" I asked. A playful smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He poked me in the ribs, making my squeak from being ticklish. He paused, his hand inches from the door. "Make sure to tell the camera's how much you love me." He winked and pecked a kiss on my forehead.

I gaped at him with a _very attractive_ expression, and he cackled with amusement as we entered the blinding light of the sun.

That boy with the bread, he sure was something that I couldn't quite wrap my head around.

I felt my cheeks flush while I wondered, _What kind of wicked, Twisted Game is he trying to play?_

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**If you read this far... then Yayyyyyyy! I love you!**

**Virtual hugs from the MR and HG crew! Tell me in a review if you like it, because if you do, then I'll continue the story!**

**And to those that don't know, I have another Maximum Ride story posted called Radioactive. Go check it out if you'd like! :)**

**Thanks again!**


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